Endings are not endings unless you decide they are. On some level of awareness, you may recognize an ending when it occurs, but in the depths of your mind, it lingers on with possible scenarios, imaginary conversations and replays of how things could have been.
Even death is not an ending. The body may perish, but the soul is liberated. The skin may decay under the earth, but the bones resist and remain. And the memories; those live on and on, as vivid as though they were happening in the present.
Some say that an ending is merely the beginning of something new, but how can that be true when there is still life in what was? It breathes, it flickers, it washes over you sometimes and drowns you in its depths, ensuring its solid existence in your life and preventing new beginnings from birthing.
Endings are not endings until you can completely free yourself from their captivation. As long as they affect your decisions or your feelings or your ability to have a fresh start that is unbiased and filled with opportunity, they are not endings.
Perhaps endings are merely a form of change, or a method of survival, or a bloom into something greater, or demise to something darker, but they are usually not endings at all. They’re just the end to that particular page or chapter or phase, but no ending is ever absolute.
#100DaysOfWriting – Day 100